On the Platform
by Jaycie Victory
Summary: 'I watch you on the platform. I've always watched you. Filthy little Mudblood. How I loathe you.'  7 key interactions between Draco and Hermione over the 7 years at Hogwarts. Fanon yet canon. All dialogue is lifted straight from the novels. Complete. D/Hr


**I watch you on the platform. Your red-haired brats surround you, snivelling and clamouring for your attention.**

**Potter looks over and catches my eye. We nod curtly at one another. **

**He thinks I'm watching him. He always did have an inflated opinion of his own importance.**

**But I watch you. I've always watched you.**

**Filthy little Mudblood. **

**How I loathe you…**

* * *

_**First Year:**_

_I knew I'd love potions! I've always been brilliant at it, and Professor Snape can already tell I'm the best in the class._

_Even better, Potter clearly doesn't know anything! Stupid half-blood. Just goes to show, only Purebloods have real intelligence. Like Father said._

_That girl keeps jumping up and down! Bushy-haired show-off…_

_I remember: she's a Mudblood! _

_Look at her jumping – like a dog that's been taught a trick. Disgusting that filth like that gets to have a wand._

_Disgusting Mudblood._

* * *

_**Second Year:**_

_Ugh. Father is angry with me. _

_Of course I still got everything I asked for this Christmas – thanks to Mother – but he STILL won't tell me anything about the Chamber. _

_Now he's shouting my grades aren't good enough._

_I try again to explain that Granger's the teacher's pet, but that only makes it worse: she's a Mudblood and she's beating me! It's almost like she's better at spells than me… But Mudbloods are no better than animals! How is that possible? _

_I'm burning with shame. I cannot look my father in the eye. This is _her _fault! I hope Slytherin's heir gets her next! I hope she dies! Her, Weasley, and Potty._

_I hope she dies._

* * *

_**Third Year:**_

_I'm deliberately smirking as I remember his expression. Stupid half-breed! So attached to a savage, dumb creature. Of course, the same description could be applied to Hagrid himself, so I suppose it's only natural he feel some affin—_

_WHAM!_

_My eyes are streaming; my nose is on fire._

_She hit me! The Granger-bitch hit me!_

_I'm so shocked all I do is stand there and watch her. Genuine incredulity holds me stationary._

_What right? What right does she think she has? _

_Does she really not know her place?_

* * *

_**Fourth Year:**_

_The front doors open and the Durmstrang students stride in._

_Whoa! Who's the stunner in blue?_

_I'm not surprised Krum's done so well for himself – fame always makes up for so many—_

_Merlin! It's the Mudblood!_

_I can feel a flush rising on my pale face; equal parts rage and shame. Quickly, I cover it with a sneer._

_On second thoughts, it's a cheap-looking blue._

* * *

_**Fifth Year:**_

_Potter has just insulted me – some toothless Muggle insult, which those idiot Weasley siblings and Longbottom laugh at. _

_I let my lip curl in disgust. Amateurs. _

_I'm slightly surprised that Granger is laughing, too. She's supposed to be intelligent._

'Tell me, how does it feel to be second-best to Weasley, Potter?'

_Unlike them, I know how to wield words to wound._

_That gets a knee-jerk reaction from Granger. Good. At least _she's_ capable of an occasional intelligent comeback… _

_Those last two notwithstanding._

_Skilfully, I twist the knife further, knowing she'll understand:_

'I seem to have touched a nerve. Well, watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line.'

_Granger is screaming at me to get out. I'm laughing as I leave – I more than won that round._

_It's only now I'm outside I realise she gave a command and I obeyed it without question._

* * *

_**Sixth Year:**_

_I can't seem to stop crying. I'm too frightened to even be ashamed._

_I've let down my father. I can already see the contempt in his eyes. But worse than that is the fear I see lying just underneath: the fear of what the Dark Lord will do to him – will do to all of us – if I fail._

_A sudden swipe of damp cold causes goose bumps to prickle down my arm._

'_Don't cry!' says a voice that is meant to soothe as she attempts to stroke my arm.  
Myrtle. Moaning Myrtle. Opalescent eyes gleaming with concern._

_I close my own again, trying to imagine the comforter's hand is flesh and blood.  
Something real. _

_In my mind's eye the silvery eyes are darkening to a warm brown.  
Know-it-all eyes.  
Infuriating eyes. _

_She'd know what to do… She always knew what to do…_

'Malfoy?'

_The hated voice cuts across half-formed intentions like acid on my soul. Potter!  
I lash out in fury, burning my thoughts away:_

'Cruc—'

'SECTUMSEMPRA!'

* * *

_**Seventh Year:**_

_I can tell it's Potter right away, of course. Even with his face so swollen and distended, I can tell it's him._

_Father is demanding a response:_

'Is it Harry Potter?'

_I look at Granger and Weasley. I look at Granger. _

_Professor Burbage flashes into my head again, only this time it's Granger floating upside down, begging to be released._

_Once I would have sworn nothing would make me happier. So when I open my mouth, I'm surprised to hear what comes out: not quite a denial, but not quite the truth either._

_From the corner of my eye I see Granger gazing at me. But I will not look at her. _

_I've learnt to look at her only when she doesn't see it. _

* * *

**I watch you on the platform.**

**I've always watched you.**

**Filthy little Mudblood. **

**How I love you…**


End file.
